


Moonlight Mix

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: The 100
Genre: Angst, Clarktavia - Freeform, Community: femslash100, Drunk Sex, F/F, Femslash Drabbletag 6, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, If you squint you can see a story arc, Issues, Love/Hate, Octaven, Octavia has issues, Octavia hates Clarke on Bellamy's behalf sometimes, Unfinished Business
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills for various femslash100 drabbletag 6 prompts. A lot of these turned into a small series of drabbles, so, there you go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're My Angel (Tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Florida-Georgia Line's "Angel".

Prompt: Octavia/Raven - Alive

**I. (168 words)**

“You sure you wanna play?” Raven’s voice gives her away, though, husky and just a little too breathless. Still. She’s got this. 

It’s the moonshine. 

Octavia’s lip curls as she pulls back, but the firelight and the liquor floats on her eyes like the Milky Way floats on the surface of the Ark on a spacewalk, and when they draw over Raven’s lower lip, she can taste the shine. Dripping. 

Shit. 

“Are you?” From anyone but a Blake, it’d be laughable. Sixteen years under the floor—isn’t she still a damn _virgin_? 

But when she asks it, it’s like hanging over the edge of the planet again with a little piece of string tying her home. 

Octavia traces Raven’s lips with fingertips so light it’s almost trembling, eyes dark and intent, almost reverent, and Raven thinks _animal_ , even though she’s never seen one before this week. 

Raven lifts her chin against Octavia’s fingertips, daring her; they slip away, and she feels burn trails in their wake. 

“Bring it.” 

 

**II. (100 words)**

They’re nothing alike. But for this, they’re perfect. 

Or convenient, and just familiar enough to still be practically strangers. Either way. 

Octavia comes back to Camp Jaha with callused hands, scraping rough on Raven’s sides, the dip of her hipbones. 

Octavia lifts her onto the table and does her the courtesy of pretending that it’s because that’s the best way to fingerfuck her and still kiss her—after eating her out. Doesn’t mention the brace. 

In return, Raven closes her eyes and pretends she can’t see tears tangled in those eyelashes. Can’t feel the slender muscles in those arms trembling. 

 

**III. (100 words)**

“To friends, and family, and loved ones who aren’t here.” 

Octavia stares at something no one else can see, a shadow around her eyes that didn’t wash away with the paint. She stands with the rest of them, but separate from all of them. 

“To those lost, and those who sacrificed everything so that we may stand here tonight.” 

A muscle clenches in her jaw at Kane’s narrative; it’s the only outward sign that she hears anything. 

It’s like she thinks she’s the only one who knows. 

“May we meet again.” It echoes around them. 

Octavia’s lips shape something else.


	2. I Know (We Made A Graveyard of This Home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clarke/Octavia - Weakness
> 
> Octavia doesn't miss Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Series of five drabble(ish) pieces.

**I. (100 Words)**

Bellamy walks through the gates looking ten years older. When they shut behind him, and Clarke doesn’t slip through, Octavia feels—

Nothing. A stony, red nothing. Clarke isn’t who Octavia thought she was. Why waste her disappointment? 

Bellamy trudges to the middle of the compound like his feet weigh a hundred pounds each; he stops, and squints up at the Ark like he’s been struck, like someone waiting for the fatal blow. This is what Clarke leaves in her wake. Octavia knows that now. There's a city of ghosts to testify to it. 

_We’re done,_ She’d said. She meant it. 

 

**II. (150 words)**

Clarke meant it, too, apparently. It’s been three weeks. 

Octavia wakes up to frost. It’s a different kind of cold than bone-draining chill of the Ark. She catches Bellamy staring out through the gate, into the woods. 

Octavia swallows hard; she aches with the want to hit Clarke, to pummel her. For TonDC, for Maya, for the blistered-red bodies that they walked past all the way out of Mount Weather. For just _leaving_ , after all that. For being such a goddamn coward. 

She wishes Clarke was here, so Octavia could tell her to fuck off and stop trying to make it up to her; to them. They don’t need her. Don’t want her. There’s no apology that could ever make this less ugly. She had it all saved up. Her chest could explode with it. 

She wishes Clarke was here, if only so she could hate her. 

 

**III. (100 words)**

Abby knows. 

But when Bellamy comes back from patrol, Abby’s always there to meet him. He looks at her, and shakes his head, and Octavia wants to shake them both and scream _She_ left _us_. To live or to die. _How can you still pretend?_

But Bellamy keeps going out, even while his squad of volunteers grows smaller and smaller. Rumors spread; she’s dead, she’s gone Grounder. 

For her part, Octavia’s sure Clarke is out there, like a stain that can’t be washed out. The aftertaste of ash and burnt hair that she wakes up to. 

Every time, Abby’s there. 

 

**IV. (100 words)**

“She knew.” Octavia blurts, one day, when no one else is around, and Bellamy’s face is grey with hunger. “She knew about the missile that hit TonDC.” She thinks she'll catch on fire from the rage. 

Bellamy just looks at her. “I know. Raven told me.” 

“Then why do you care? Why d'you think _she_ cares?” 

“She cares, O,” Bell says, “And I need her. _We_ need her.” 

“No, we _don’t_. We have the _entire Ark_. Clarke’s just one person.” 

“You and I both know it’s not that simple.” 

“Yes. It is.” 

 

**V. 100 words**

She isn’t standing in the home she shares with Lincoln. Her hands aren’t shaking. 

She’s tired; of the slump in her brother’s shoulders. The reek of moonshine on Jasper’s clothes. The missing faces. The unmistakable stamp it all bears. 

If Clarke’s the reason it’s all broken, can they fix it without her? 

Who the fuck told Clarke she got to _leave_ , after everything? 

Octavia slams both fists on the wall, yelling. Whirls and strides through the doorway, grabbing her machete from the wall on her way out. 

She’s not sure if she’s going to bring Clarke back, or kill her.


End file.
